


Thursday's Child

by voodoochild



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor gets hit on the head and wakes up in 1982. Naturally, he finds Gene Hunt there to greet him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday's Child

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **odditycollector**. Takes place post-"Day of the Moon" in Who-chronology, no spoilers for it, though. Takes place early season two in A2A-chronology, no spoilers for that, either.

Space Florida part two doesn't go nearly as well as Space Florida part one.

Amy had wanted to show Rory the starwhales at Sea Galaxy and all the Doctor had wanted was a fruity umbrella drink and a nice relaxing afternoon by the thermal pool, but the Ponds had barely gotten out of the TARDIS when a server droid swerved by with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and smacked right into the Doctor.

The back of his head hits the interstellar cabana, and the next thing he knows, he's being poked by a curly-haired bloke and another's dripping bacon butty all over his face.

"Guv, I don't think he's - blimey, he's breathing!"

"This is why we check them, Raymondo! Christ, all I need is Bolls winning the pool on when you next scream like a girl."

"I thought I was a girl, once," the Doctor says, and oh, good! Vocal chords are working. "It was a confusing time, and to be fair, it was entirely possible I'd regenerated as one. Hasn't happened yet, but one day I could wake up with my bits gone."

The curly-haired bloke makes a face. "Keep it to yourself, mate. What happened to you?"

He sits up, because his head is eerily quiet and finds out why. No TARDIS. Oh, he misses the old girl already, her low-level hum absent. He's definitely not in Space Florida anymore - unless he's very much mistaken, it's East London, Fenchurch area, mid-1980's, if the white leather jacket and off-the-shoulder shirt of the woman getting out of the red motor are anything to go by.

"What the hell have you two been doing?" she yells, stiletto heels crunching gravel. "You have a quick ID on our vic . . . who is sitting up and talking to you. I - well, that puts a whole new spin on-"

"Bolls, close your mouth," bacon-butty man says. "You're in severe danger of stating the bloody obvious."

"Me? What about Ray - he's the one who said we had an actual victim!"

The conversation degenerates into a rousing argument between white-jacket woman and bacon-butty man, and so the Doctor decides to take matters into his own hands. A swift nick of the keys later, and he's sitting in the driver's seat of a very nice, very fast Audi Quattro. And oh, she's a _cheeky_ one, isn't she?

"Stop calling me- oi! Get the ruddy hell out of my car!"

"So sorry!" the Doctor calls. "Your car was entirely too sexy to resist! I've got my own gorgeous spaceship to find and two 21st-century humans to rescue from Space Florida. Disneyverse gets a bit, um, is lethal the word I want to use? I'll leave your car outside the station!"

He speeds off, leaving the man ( _"Guv"_ , the Quattro purrs at him, _"he's ever so particular about it"_ ) raging in his rearview mirror and the woman not doing a very good job of concealing her laughter. There's an excellent pub near Blackfriars, the Old Bell Tavern, and he thinks he'll stop in for a bite while he figures out how to find his TARDIS.

Seven hours, four packets of fish-and-chips, and three pints later, he runs into a former self in Fleet Street (that time with third-him, Sarah Jane and the Cybermen) and finds out the Quattro is excellent at hairpin turns. Third-him sends a beacon call to the TARDIS in thanks, and as soon as he goes out to retrieve the Quattro, he hears the familiar sound of her materialization.

"You left us in Space Florida!" Amy yells from the front door. "We almost got eaten by UltraMickey!"

"Well, _someone_ had to go and tell him his trousers were the wrong color," Rory mutters.

Amy thwacks her husband on the arm. "Mickey wears red trousers and yellow shoes, not yellow trousers and purple boots."

"You don't tell the nine-foot alien inside the costume that!"

The Doctor laughs, and dashes for the TARDIS. Tires squeal behind him and a familiar voice bellows out the window of a squad car.

"OI! YOU NICKED MY MOTOR, YOU PENCIL-NECKED SOUTHERN PANSY!"

"Who's that?" Amy asks.

"Time to go!" The Doctor yells, tossing the keys to the Quattro over his shoulder and making for the TARDIS. "Thanks for the loan, she's a lovely car. May want to ease up on the clutch a bit, she hates when you shove her into third without warning. And she says she'd appreciate a nice scrub of the seats once in a while if you're going to shag your inspectors in there."

The doors close on an irate DCI, an amused pair of uniforms, and Rory and Amy asking if they can see a real pirate ship.


End file.
